


HM Days 2018

by TheBeckster



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town, Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness, Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Genre: Established Farms, F/F, F/M, Fluff, HMDays2018, Multi, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Slice of Life, background ships are there too, because all of this fluff will rot your teeth, main ships have been tagged, you better make a dentist appoint now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeckster/pseuds/TheBeckster
Summary: My contributions to the HM Days Celebration over on tumblr.Three fluffy fics featuring the female MC and some of the husbands I've wooed over the course of the games.Day One (Sept. 22) - Reminiscing or Looking AheadDay Two (Sept. 23) - Anniversary or ProposalDay Three (Sept. 24) - A bountiful Harvest or Gazing Up At The Harvest Moon





	1. More Friends of Mineral Town - Reminiscing

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, you have no idea how excited I am to post this! I started writing these almost immediately after I saw the prompts on tumblr, I was just super inspired! And in a ridiculously fluffy mood, so these all turned into three tooth-rotting fluff prompts based around the Main Player Character and the bachelors I wooed across the games I've played.
> 
> I wanted to challenge myself a bit, so I set the goal to write at least 1000 words for each daily prompt and well... I definitely exceeded that goal.
> 
> Day One's prompt was Reminiscing OR Looking Ahead  
> I chose Reminiscing, and naturally, for the first day, went with my first game. (Okay, technically, my first game was Back To Nature, but I was 8 and so bad at it I never accomplished anything. MFoMT was the first game I actually got married in.)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> -Becks

**Day One - Reminiscing  
**

 

Claire straightened her stiff back with a low groan, pressing her fists into her lumbar. The harvest had always been labor intensive, but it had never hurt this much.

"Lamb, you okay?"

Claire smiled to herself, cherishing her pet name. Thirty-five years of marriage and he could still bring a smile to her lips with just one word.

"I'm fine, just a little stiff."

Cliff smiled at her over the trellises, his blue eyes crinkling up in years of laugh lines. "This used to be a lot easier."

"We used to be a lot younger," Claire conceded with a shrug and a smile.

"Speaking of younger, what happened to our labor force?"

Claire looked over their fields, not seeing their helpers. She shaded her eyes and looked skyward at the unseasonably hot sun; it was high in the sky. "Probably getting lunch set up."

"That takes all four of them?" Cliff joked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's been a hot morning, and the grapes aren’t going anywhere." Claire tucked her clippers into her pocket and hefted up the nearly full basket of grapes onto her hip. "C'mon, dear, I think we're due a break too."

They hiked across the vineyard and towards the farmhouse. The harvest was always the busiest time of year, and even the birds that had flown the nest still returned to roost for a week or two - turning the usually quiet house into a hive of activity. It was chaotic and the house was packed to the gills, but Claire loved every minute of it.

Several folding tables had been shoved together beneath the shade of the small apple grove. Her kids were sprawled across the chairs, laughing and chatting and egging the young grandkids into dumping buckets of water on each other.

"Hey slackers," Cliff called out, dropping his basket onto the ground with a heavy thud. “I don’t see lunch on the table.”

There was a collective jump as Claire and Cliff’s children scrambled to their feet. Claire put her hands on her hips, only semi-seriously admonishing her children. “Hank, you of all people should be helping your wife.”

Their middle son gaped at them, trying to put together an explanation, but he was saved by his twin sister, Heather. “ _Le chef_ has banished us all from the kitchen, Mom. There’s no encroaching on her domain. Katie and Bernadette have formed an irritable, pregnant lady pack.”

Claire was stopped from truly scolding her middle children by an insistent tugging on her hand. “Gramma, Gramma, Gramma!”

She smiled down at her eldest grandchild, Tiffany. “Yes, dear?”

“Are we gonna stomp these grapes?” The six-year-old had been asking the same question about every bushel of grapes they’d brought in for the last two days.

“Not these ones, sweetheart.” Claire patted her granddaughter on top of her head.

The child frowned at her and then turned to her grandfather. “Grampa, when’re we gonna stomp grapes.”

“We don’t _stomp_ them, Tiffany, we press them in a machine to squeeze all the juice out.”

“But… but Daddy said that he stepped on the grapes to make the wine.”

“Ahh, well, that’s because your dad was a mischievous little imp when he was a boy and we had to burn out all of his energy.” Cliff laughed.

Peter opened his mouth to protest this besmirching of his reputation in front of his daughter, but was cut off by a shrill whistle from the porch. Peter’s wife Katie was standing on the porch, hands on her hips, “Hey schleppers, food’s ready! Bernadette says if you don’t carry, you don’t eat.”

There was a great scramble as the mostly grown-up children raced from the tables to the farmhouse. Claire was unceremoniously handed Evan, her two year old grandson, by her youngest son, Kyle as he shoved his brothers and sister out of the way in the race. Everyone knew that the first one to carry a dish got first pick of the servings, and Kyle, being seventeen years old, consumed food like a black hole.

“Come on, Tiffany, let’s go wash our hands.” Cliff said, taking his granddaughter’s hand and walking much more slowly to the house. Claire settled Evan on her hip and followed.

 

**XXXXXXXXXX**

 

Later that evening, Claire and Cliff sat beside each other on the porch swing, sharing a bottle of wine. The day's work was done, dinner had been cleared up, the kids were off doing their own things, and they had nothing but time on their hands.

The sun was setting, and the remainders of the summer bugs were singing proudly in the trees. Claire finished the last sip of her wine and set her glass aside. She was tired and full of love and relaxed.

"Let's take a stroll," Claire said, linking arms with her husband.

"Alright."

A leisurely evening stroll wasn’t something they got to engage in very often during the busy harvest season; which was a shame. Autumn was the most beautiful season to walk around Mother’s Hill.

They stood in tandem, slowly working the kinks from their knees and backs. Claire led Cliff across the porch and they stood at the top of the steps, surveying the farm. Claire drew a deep breath of the warm air and released it as a slow, content sigh.

"Surely we're going farther than the edge of the porch," Cliff teased. He pecked her on the cheek and they stepped off the porch. "What's got you so nostalgic tonight?"

Claire hummed thoughtfully. "I'm just remembering what this all looked like when we started. Do you remember?"

Cliff chuckled. "I remember thinking you were crazy and it would take an act of god to get the land cleared, much less get the farm up and running again all on your own."

"I had to have been crazy. I didn't know the first thing about farming. Had I been any older and smarter, I'm sure I never would have taken the plunge."

"Well, I'm certainly happy you were young and stupid." Cliff quipped. He pressed a kiss to his wife's work roughened hand and wrapped his arm around her waist.

They strolled quietly across the farm, each reminiscing. The scrawny apple tree, under which they shared their first kiss, had become the first in their little cider grove. And, if Claire closed her eyes, she could still see the hard-earned turnip plots that she had scraped a living from in her first years. She could hear her first dog, Lance, baying after the sheep as he herded them around the tiny pasture she had fenced off. Now, Lance’s great-great-grandpups watched over the herds.

The farm had almost tripled in size from what Claire had bought. Her first field had long ago been turned into pasture shared between her and Yodel Ranch. After her first ten years, Claire had purchased the land west of her farm, split by the stream that wound down from the mountain lake. The second fields were twice as large as her original field. Half had been devoted to her seasonal crops; the other half had been turned into a vineyard.

A famous sommelier had visited Mineral town on their country-wide tour searching for hidden gems. He had given Aja Winery a rave review, and as the wine business boomed, they needed more land to grow more grapes. Claire was happy to share in the business with her husband. They had even built a small winery on the farm once the vines had fully matured and production had increased beyond the capacity of the original winery. The storefront still remained in town, manned by Cliff and their daughter.

They walked past the chicken coop, listening to the sleepy sounds of chickens settling in to roost for the night. Underneath the clucks and ruffling feathers there was another noise; voices, a low murmur and then a laugh. Cliff scuffed his boot across the ground and kicked a rock. There was a quiet yelp followed by a hissed "Shh!"

Claire shared a sly grin with her husband. She knew that if she decided to peek around the back of the coop she'd find her youngest son with Trent and Elli's boy. But neither of the adults did anything and kept walking, chatting innocently about the upcoming apple harvest as they passed.

They'd let the kids think they were being sneaky tonight. They were hardly the first to discover that behind the coop was just about the best hiding spot on the farm if you wanted a little privacy without nosy siblings or children poking around.

They crossed the footbridge over the stream, it still looked brand new after finally being rebuilt last spring, and set off on the trail up Mother's Hill. They passed Gotz's cabin, a little less lonely now with the addition of a workshop and an apprentice's cabin.

About twenty-five years back, Amber had floated into town on the summer ferry with Kai and Popuri – tagged along on their annual trip to Mineral Town. Though she never talked about it, it was pretty clear that the kid hadn’t had an easy go at life up to that point, and the wandering couple had swept her up like protective older siblings. For whatever reason, the girl had taken to Gotz like a duck to water that summer. After a season long gruff-off between the two, the carpenter made a reluctant show of taking the teenager under his wing as an apprentice.

Claire personally thought he hadn't minded half as much as he claimed considering the two almost became like father and daughter by the end of that autumn. Amber had mostly taken over the carpentry business for the town, but Gotz, even in his advanced age, kept the four apprentices in check. And as much as he grumbled about the ‘teenage bullshit’ he had to settle all the time, Claire had a feeling he enjoyed the company.

There were voices up the path to the hot spring, and Claire and Cliff waved to the family walking on their way home. It was Monday. May still always went to the spring on Mondays; dragging Amber and their two kids along, despite the complaints of the kids.

Hand in hand, Claire and Cliff walked farther up the well beaten mountain path. At the edge of the lake two figures stood together, skipping rocks across the mirror-like surface of the lake. By the heated rise of their voices, the best friends were having a mutual venting session about their respective parents. Claire hardly had to listen in to know what they were upset about. Small town gossip and all that.

Rick's son, Robbie, wanted to leave town for college, study and see the world. His father held some strong opinions about that. What did his son need a college degree for? He was going to be a poultry farmer like his father and his father before him.

Claire and Cliff both knew that their old friend was pushing his abandonment insecurities onto his son, and it wasn’t fair to Robbie. He was almost twenty-four and had hardly left Mineral Town at all in his life. He was left living vicariously through letters and postcards from his aunt and uncle.  Rick’s reluctance to let his son leave the nest had been a long running point of irritation for Karen. She had been making progress in convincing Rick to let their son live his own life, up until she suddenly and unexpectedly passed away two years back. Rick had clamped down even harder on his convictions after that.

Gray and Mary's youngest daughter had taken up her father's mantel, and despite the blacksmith's insistence that he would never be a tough mentor like his grandfather, that was _exactly_ what he had become. “ _It builds character. My grandfather was tough on me and I turned out fine._ ”

Laurel, however, was as stubborn as her father, and possibly more hot tempered. Despite the headbutting that happened over the forge and the shouting matches that sometimes carried outside of the shop, their relationship was ultimately loving. Claire wondered if Laurel knew how much like her father she was as she chucked stones into the lake at the same spot Gray used to when he was frustrated with his mentor.

Claire and Cliff climbed farther up the mountain, commenting at the wildflowers blooming and the changing leaves in the trees. They reached the summit of Mother’s Hill, and looked out over the forest that seemed to go on for eternity. The moon wasn’t quite full, but it had already begun its nightly trek across the sky, pale and washed out in the mostly-blue sky. Moon Viewing day would be coming up soon. Claire and Cliff had long ago retired their annual trek up the mountain for a cozy night at home – the summit that night was for the young lovers.

Cliff wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her close. His beard tickled her cheek as he rested against her shoulder. “I proposed to you up here. Remember?”

Claire did, quite vividly. Poor weather had threatened to rain out the Moon Viewing festival, and most folks in town had opted to forgo the hike up the mountain in the rain and the dark. It being their third moon viewing as a couple, she and Cliff had planned for the same, curled up together in front of the TV snacking on the moon dumplings. But as night fell, the patter of raindrops lessened on the farmhouse roof. Reckless and in love, the couple had decided to take the hike up the dark mountain, despite the very real dangers of it. Their efforts had been well rewarded. The clouds parted shortly after they reached the summit and the moonlight turned every rain-soaked rock into silver and pearls.

Entranced by the magic of it all, the question had passed Cliff’s lips before he had even realized what he was saying. Stuttering and featherless, he hadn’t really expected Claire to say ‘yes,’ but bathed in the magical light of the harvest moon, there wasn’t any other answer she dreamed of giving.

“You’ll have to remind me how that night ended,” Claire said softly, turning in her husband’s arms to face him.

Cliff cupped her face gently, whispered, “I love you more than anything in the world,” and brought his lips to hers. Claire melted into the kiss, twining her arms around her husband’s neck.

The stiffness in her joints and the ache in her muscles were constant reminders that she was no longer the dreaming young woman who had come to this town with nothing and carved a life out of Mineral Town with only her blood, sweat, and tears. But when her husband kissed her, she still felt like the boundless twenty-two year old she had been on her wedding day.

Together, they turned to face the town and rest on their favorite boulder. It had probably been sitting on the mountain’s face for thousands of years, and held many a butt over that time, and it would probably continue to support lovers and friends and weary hikers and children who needed their shoes tied again for another thousand years or more.

The setting sun had painted Mineral Town red and gold, throwing long shadows eastward. After almost forty years living there, Mineral Town hardly seemed to have changed at all, even though Claire knew it was hardly the same town she had settled in. It had grown a bit, adding more homes and businesses slowly over the year, but was still hardly large enough to be considered more than a village.

Claire's eyes skimmed over her farmlands and the poultry farm and Yodel Ranch. She could barely see the outline of the vet’s house on the south side of town. Doctor Herriot had moved out to the country with his family after a relatively short, but quite lucrative career as a racehorse veterinarian to retire and take up fishing. Three months of peace, quiet, and boredom had him making house calls to the farms just to check in on the animals. That had been twenty years ago, and he still hadn’t stopped.

The Inn was still the largest building in town, and easiest to spy from the mountain. Doug still kept the bar to keep busy, though the business and management end of things had been taken over by Ann long ago. The Inn was in the middle of a remodel and expansion and Claire was looking forward to seeing the finished results.

Claire still vividly remembered the night when Ann, after years of Doug pestering his daughter about dating and finding a boyfriend, put her foot down and announced to her father and the entire bar crowd that she had no interest in dating or having sex with anybody ever, thank you very much. Doug, as far as Claire knew, had put the issue to bed and hadn’t touched it since. Instead, he had become a watchful and caring surrogate grandfather-figure for all of the kids in town – particularly the hired staff. He wasn’t nearly as tough on them as he liked to pretend to be when he was tending the bar if the affectionate way the staff called him ‘Pops’ was anything to go by.

Aja Winery stood resolute with her small vineyard. Officially, it had been passed onto Cliff when Duke passed away ten years back, but the old wine maker had unofficially retired almost ten year before that. Cliff had practically been running the place himself for years before it legally passed into his hands, and when Heather was old enough, she had happily joined her father at the winery. Manna kept herself plenty busy gossiping with the other ladies in town and spoiling her grandchildren and great-grandbabies. She absolutely adored the way Evan, who still hadn’t quite mastered speaking clearly, called her ‘Gra’Manna’ and made sure to tell everyone about it.

Mary's library was still there, the same as it had always been save for an expanded collection of books. It was a quiet haven for the novelist to continue her writing. If Claire recalled correctly, she was working on her sixth novel now, and has no intentions of stopping any time soon. Laurel’s older sister had left town for school, and was currently a professor of chemistry at a university.

Then there was Elli and Trent's house, almost an empty nest except for their youngest and only son. Their two older daughters had followed their father’s footsteps and had both become doctors. By the look of things, their son was heading down the same path – though somewhat reluctantly from what she picked up when he joined them for dinner.

Harris still enjoyed his easy beat at the town's policeman, though he didn’t serve alone anymore. Every few years, he would get fresh faced and eager cadet from the academy to assist him and learn from him. He half-heartedly complained about retraining, but enjoyed the help. It freed up some of his time for his mayoral duties, and provided a younger set of legs got to traipse up and down the mountain trails on a daily basis now. He never did marry, but for several years now Harris had been in a long-distance, letter writing romance with a nice gentleman from the Sunshine Islands.

The supermarket was under the care of a new family now; second cousins of Karen who had fled the city for a quieter life. Jeff had passed on shortly after Robbie’s birth, and Sasha had found the store too much to handle on her own. Karen had been relieved when her cousins took over. Splitting her time and effort between hew infant son, the poultry farm, and running the supermarket had been more than she wanted to handle.

The clinic now housed Trent's apprentices as they worked through their residency. There was a spare room saved for Stu when he came to visit. The boy had followed his childhood hobbies and became an entomologist. He spent most of his time on field studies in exotic locales, but he still called Mineral Town his home base. Claire was certain that Elli had mentioned Stu spending the next six months deep in the Amazon when they had tea together last week.

Carter still watched over the spiritual health of the town from the church, which, with the influx of new residents, now had pretty regular attendance. Their family went to services every Sunday, and Claire was always thankful to the Goddess for bringing her to this town, for giving her the ability to revive her farm, and for blessing her with her loving friends and family.

From the mountain, Claire couldn’t really see the beach, but she had a feeling it had a fair number of patrons enjoying one of the last summery days of the year. Peter and Katie had taken their kids down to the beach for a little swimming after dinner. Zach still headed the shipping business in town from his beach house. He had no plans of retiring any time soon, but May’s eldest had begun to show an interest in what he did as a shipper. Zach had lived alone for almost three decades after Won had left town in search of more gullible customers. The salesman made an appearance every few years with new bizarre items to sell, and he kept the farms well stocked on exotic seeds, selling through the supermarket. Kai’s snack shack hadn’t been open for business in decades, but Claire knew from personal experience that it was the perfect place to take shelter from a sudden summer rain … or sneak away to for a little bit of romance. It was a much younger crowd breaking into the shack to make out against the dusty bar top these days.

Claire leaned against her husband, warmed with memories of the past and the life she had shared with him and her loved ones. She looked over her home, and realized she couldn’t be happier. She had the love of her life, and the large family she had always dreamed of. Her farm was thriving and her home was a beautiful, peaceful place.

She nestled up underneath Cliff’s arm. “What a wonderful life we have.”


	2. Island of Happiness - Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denny asks a Very Important Question.

**Day Two - Proposal  
**

 

Denny wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, again. He was going to leave wet spots if he didn’t stop that. He moved his nervous hands up to his hair, trying to fix it. He’d done something different with styling it tonight, and now he wasn’t so sure about it. It wasn’t that it looked _bad_ it was just different, and right now every instinct was screaming at him for daring to try anything different. He was happy and comfortable with his life the way it was. Why was he threatening the balance by changing things now?

He was going to look like such an idiot if this didn’t go according to plan!

Denny moaned as he pulled at a stray lock of hair, trying to tuck it into place. He looked stupid without his bandana; maybe he should just put it back on. _No_ , he wanted tonight to be special and different from any other date. Still, just for a quick look, he pulled his signature purple bandana loosely over his head, careful to not mess up any of his stylings until he made a decision.

“What do you think, Kuu? Bandana or no?”

His loyal companion looked at him, flat, unimpressed, silent. The bird had been witness to Denny’s many uncertainties all afternoon from his perch. _Do you think I should give my hair a trim? I should shave right? Is this shirt nice enough? I want it to be nicer than normal, but not_ too _nice so it gives anything away. Do these socks smell weird, or is my nose broken? I swear they’re clean._

In the end, Denny had shaved, like he should have; didn’t trim his hair, a safe choice; changed shirts ten times; and found a cleaner smelling pair of socks.

“You’re right. No bandana.” Denny resolutely folded it up and put it in his back pocket. Just because he wasn’t going to wear it didn’t mean he was about to enter this date without his lucky bandana on him. _That_ was tempting fate a little too enticingly.

Fighting the urge to keep messing with his hair, Denny shoved his hands into his pockets. His fingers wrapped around the most important part of tonight’s date. He almost brought it out to look at, but stopped himself with a sharp mental admonition. If he didn’t keep it in his pocket, he would absolutely do something stupid and leave it behind. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together, trying to wipe away the damned ever-present sweat on his palms.

An irritated mess of nerves and anxiety, Denny released a short huff. “Maybe I should practice,” he suggested to Kuu. “I… I haven’t really figured out what I want to say.” The last thing he wanted to do was get so nervous and tongue tied that he stumbled over his words and couldn’t be understood. He wasn’t much of a poet, but he could probably come up with something half-decent and eloquent to mark the momentous occasion.

“Okay.” Denny huffed again, buzzing his lips to loosen them up. He looked at his reflection in the tiny, dirty mirror and tried to pretend that his mug was actually her. “I-“

He was interrupted by a squawk from Kuu. No time for practice, she was walking down the beach to his hut. Feeling quite flustered, Denny check his pockets to be extra sure, checked his tackle box, and then, before walking out the door, checked his pocket again.

“Wish me luck, Kuu,” he called to his bird with a nervous smile before closing the door behind him.

Chelsea picked up her pace a little once she saw Denny emerge from his house. A wide smile split her face automatically upon seeing Denny, and he mirrored it on his own face. She ran the last few steps, dropping her tackle box in the sand before she flung herself into Denny’s arms.

Their kiss was fiery and passionate and Denny hated for it to end. “Hello to you too, Sugar,” he muttered to his girlfriend, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Hey, Babe,” she giggled before pressing another kiss to his lips.

Chelsea filled Denny's every sense. Her silky, brunette hair was turning bronze in the lowering light of the sun. Her skin was warm beneath his hands. The taste of her lip balm was on his lips, and the scent of her perfume was doing something pleasantly numbing to his brain.

The perfume was a new scent; floral and a little fruity and slightly musky. Chelsea didn’t often wear perfume. Denny caught her hand as she moved to unwrap her arms from around his neck, and he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand for an excuse to smell the perfume on her wrists again. He decided it was his new favorite scent. “Is that new?”

Chelsea blushed a bit. “No, not really, I got it as a birthday present years ago from my parents, but I hardly ever wear it.”

“I love it.” Denny was finding the scent more and more intoxicating the longer he breathed it in.

Chelsea beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck again, she asked, with a slight quirk to her eyebrows. “And what about you? Is that cologne I detect?”

Denny had spent an embarrassingly long time sniffing mail-order sample cards to find a scent he thought Chelsea would like. Eventually he picked something with an earthy scent, a touch of spice, and – surprising himself – lavender. It reminded him of the woman he loved.

Denny grinned back at her. “Yeah, do you like it?”

“I do.” Chelsea leaned in close to press a kiss to his cheek. Denny shivered a touch in anticipation. If all went well tonight, this wouldn’t be the last time he heard that phrase come from Chelsea’s mouth.

“I love what you’ve done with your hair too. Is it always like this?” Chelsea ran her fingers gently through his locks, teasing at the tight curls. “You’re always hiding it under your bandana.”

“Ah, yeah, I had to leave the bandana behind tonight,” Denny said a little sheepishly. He could still feel little electric currents running across his scalp from where Chelsea’s nails had brushed it. Then, he realized that he would have to come up with a reasonable excuse for the bandana’s absence without giving anything away. “It, uh, it got some fish guts on it earlier.”

Chelsea wrinkled her nose playfully. “Well, we wouldn’t want fish guts on our date.” She bent over to pick up her tackle box and retrieved her pole from its home on Denny’s rack. “So you ready for some fishing?”

The fisherman laughed at the joke. It was their normal Friday night date; some fishing for a bit, mostly to unwind and chat without too many interlopers before dinner together at one of the restaurants on the island, and then whatever struck their fancy after dinner.

“Lead the way, Sugar.”

He purposefully delayed for a moment to collect his own gear, and surreptitiously check his tackle box again, before setting off down the beach after his girlfriend. He didn’t much mind walking behind her, admiring the fall of her hair down her back, and the graceful sway of her hips, and the fall of the dress over the curve of her – _wait!_ Denny only just registered the sundress Chelsea was wearing tonight. Chelsea never dressed up for their dates anymore. They had long ago reached that comfortable stage of their relationship where they understood that fishing might get messy – so what was the point of ruining nice clothes?

Did she know? Had someone in town blabbed? He hadn’t gone around town telling every one of his plans to propose, but he couldn’t exactly buy a blue feather on his own and he had enlisted his friends for help picking a suitable cologne when he became nose-blind to the samples.

Why else would Chelsea have taken so much care for their usual, casual date night if she didn’t know what he was about to do? Ooh, Denny was going to feed whoever spilled the beans to the sharks!

He considered, for just a split second, to just throw his plans out the window entirely and wait. He had wanted to truly surprise Chelsea and if she expected to be proposed to tonight, that kind of killed the surprise. His hand patted his pocket.

_No_! He would still go through with it, and together he and Chelsea could take revenge on the blabbermouths in town.

He did consider just skipping fishing, though. After all, it could be a messy task and he didn’t want to have potentially get fish guts on Chelsea’s nice dress. He glanced to the sky. It wasn’t quite sunset yet, and even if the surprise had been ruined, he wasn’t going to let the one chance for a romantic proposal on the beach at sunset slip away from him.

Denny loped a few steps forward to catch up with Chelsea and linked arms with her as they wandered down to the edge of the pier. They each took time setting up their rods – Denny being extra sneaky to make sure Chelsea couldn’t peek into his tackle box – and then settled down together at the end of the dock with their feet dangling over the edge. In comfortable silence, they dropped their lines into the water, neither really trying to catch any of the tiny fish that lived beneath the dock.

They followed the familiar script of conversation: ‘How was your day?’ ‘Catch anything exciting?’ and such. But Denny could tell Chelsea was nervous about something. Her answers, while neutral or positive, were clipped pretty short, and she favored silence tonight. The rush of waves and the cries of the gulls beginning to roost for the night was all that passed between them.

Yep. If she was nervous, she definitely knew Denny was going to propose. But… an icy stake of doubt chilled Denny’s heart, if she knew he was going to propose, why was she so nervous about it? Did she not feel the same way he felt about her?

Denny hadn’t been able to envision his future without Chelsea in it for the better part of the last year; really ever since they started dating. The realization that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her kind of hit him over the head one day and he had never wanted to consider anything else. He hadn’t seen any warning signs that Chelsea’s affections were waning or that she didn’t feel the same way; and he thought their communication was pretty top notch for a young couple.

Denny shook away his doubts. He was a nervous mess tonight even though _he_ was the one proposing. Chelsea had to be feeling pretty nervous too, knowing she was being proposed to. That was it.

He glanced to the western sky. This time of year, the sun barely touched the ocean as it set, and the mountains on the western end of the island tended to eat up the sunset pretty quickly. Right now, the light was perfect, if he waited too much longer, he’d be proposing in semi-darkness.

Taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, Denny reeled in his line. “I don’t think this lure is doing me any favors tonight. Sugar, would you mind grabbing my silverfish lure from my box?”

Chelsea had been staring out over the water a little dreamily and started a bit at his request. “Oh, yeah, sure thing.” She had let the little minnows eat all of her bait off her hook, so she reeled it in and set her rod aside.

“Thanks, hun.” Denny said, pretending to be distracted with untying his original lure. He watched carefully from the corner of his eye as she walked back to his tackle box, and as soon as she was behind him, he set his rod aside and scrambled to his feet.

“Why’d you leave your tackle box all the way over here?” Chelsea asked, having to walk several steps up the dock to get to it. “Do you want me to—“

Whatever she was going to say died in her throat as she opened the lid of the box. Denny knew that carefully placed on top of everything was a delicate blue feather. He only had a few seconds to get into position. He fumbled the small ring box from his pocket and got down onto one knee behind Chelsea’s back. It was only then that he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Too late to panic now, he was just going to wing it!

Chelsea gasped and picked up the feather in her trembling hands, holding it like it was made from glass. “Denny?” She turned to face her boyfriend and saw him waiting there, ring in hand. Her hands flew to her mouth.

He looked at her like she was the sun, moon, and stars of his life. “Chelsea, I-“

Suddenly, Chelsea laughed. One absurd, uncheck giggle that grew into a fit of laughter. Denny drooped, feeling like someone had just dropped an anchor into his stomach. Why was she laughing?

“I’m sorry, Babe,” Chelsea struggled to explain around her laughter. “It’s just…” she reached into a pocket of her dress and drew out another blue feather. “You read my mind is all.”

Denny felt a grin split his face and he scrambled to his feet. He thought his heart was going to burst, he was so happy. He couldn’t help his laughter either. “So that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely, yes!” Chelsea threw herself at him and he caught her very enthusiastically. He could feel the feathers in her hands tickling the back of his neck. Overcome with love, he couldn’t resist kissing her, or holding her as tight as possible.

Chelsea stepped back just enough to say, “Maybe you should put that ring on my finger, my _fiancé_.”

Denny obliged, he expected his hands to be shaking with emotion, but they were steady as rocks and the ring slipped perfectly onto Chelsea’s finger.

“I love you, Chelsea, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I love you too, Denny.”

They kissed again, but stayed close, unconsciously dancing cheek to cheek to the song of the ocean.

“You sneaky bastard,” Chelsea whispered in his ear, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I can’t believe you beat me to the proposal. I was planning this for two weeks.”

Denny couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve got you beat. I was planning this for two months.”

Chelsea finally stepped back, giving him an appraising look, and refusing to let go of his hands. “How did you keep _that_ a secret on this island for two months?”

“I may or may not have threatened to turn the involved parties into shark bait if they let anything slip,” he admitted with a sly grin. “You really had no idea?”

“No, that’s why I bought the feather.”

They two of them shared a laugh again, pressing their foreheads together.

“Oh, Chen must have been dying knowing that we both bought feathers.” Chelsea realized. “He never even _hinted_ when I came in for mine.”

“Well, I guess I know who in town I can trust with all my secrets,” Denny joked.

“But now we have two blue feathers. What do we do with these?” Chelsea asked, holding up the feathers in her hands.

Denny recognized the one he had bought for Chelsea – he’d spent long enough staring at it over the last month – it was speckled with dark blue, and turned almost indigo at the tip. The feather Chelsea had bought for him was almost pure blue throughout, the same shade as sea on a sunny day, with a touch of iridescence giving it a greenish hue.

“Well I know that answer. This was a tradition in my hometown.” He took Chelsea’s feather and a strand of her hair and with a few deft knots had tied the feather into her hair. It was tucked just behind her ear, and fell down to her shoulder, like a beautiful sapphire in a pool of bronze. She petted the feather lightly, and smiled, thanking him with a kiss.

“It’s a shame your hair’s not quite long enough to do the same,” she said, holding up his feather to him. “Too bad your lucky bandana has fish guts on it.”

“Well, actually…” Denny fished the purple kerchief out from his back pocket. “I didn’t want you to think any special was happening before it did, you know?”

“You sneak, hand it over.” Chelsea held her hand out expectantly and once she had the bandanna in hand, she turned to her tackle box. With some fishing line and creative use of a fish hook, Chelsea was able to stitch the feather to Denny’s bandana. She helped tie it back around his head so his feather matched hers in position and placement.

“We’re going to make everybody sick with our lovey dovey matching,” Denny said, pecking Chelsea on the lips.

She hummed, contentedly, showing she was quite fine with that possibility. “So, my love, shall we go to dinner now?”

“I think we shall, dearest.” Denny looped his arm around Chelsea’s waist and they strolled off together.

 

The couple discovered, upon entering the diner, that Chen was not as good of a secret keeper as he appeared to be. With a little sneaking and conniving the shop keeper had confirmed with Denny and Chelsea’s friends that both of them were planning to propose, and it would most likely be tonight. Half of the town had come together to secretly plan a congratulatory party for the two.

All plans for a romantic dinner together vanished in an instant when they walked through the doors. Denny was mildly disappointed, but he still thoroughly enjoyed the party and ribbing his friends for their craftiness in putting this all together behind his back.

After all, he realized between a flurry of well wishes and toasts, who better to share one of the happiest days of his life than the people he loved?


	3. Trio of Towns - Gazing Up At The Harvest Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly makes a wish on a magical night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small notice, this chapter does contain discussions of conception and difficulty conceiving. Nothing NSFW, but I know it can be a sensitive subject for some.
> 
> Funny thing is, this was originally going to just be some cute harvest moon cuddles, and then I spent a weekend babysitting for my friend and also talking with my SIL, who is ready to start trying for her own kids, and then it just kind of turned into this.
> 
> Anyway, this is the end of the HMDays celebration! I had so much fun with this and I think I'm going to have to do more of these in the future!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> -Becks

**Day Three – Gazing Up At The Harvest Moon**

 

“Ku’uipo, what are you doing out here?”

Holly turned her head to look at her husband. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you with all my tossing and turning.”

“You’re going to freeze out here.”

Holly hid a smirk. _She_ wasn’t the one wandering around in only her boxers. She had remembered to put on a light jacket before going out to sit on the porch. Besides, the autumn night wasn’tthat chill – they still had all the windows in the house cracked opened.

“Well, come warm me up.” She held her arms open for her man-sized slice of tropical sun to cozy up next to her.

He obliged and settled next to her on the top step of the porch. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap, leaning her back against his chest. Holly happily nestled into her favorite spot with her head resting close enough to Ludus’ heart that if they were both quiet enough she could hear it beating.

“Wow,” Ludus breathed once they settled in, “Look at that moon.”

The late hour had the moon hanging low in the sky; fat, full, and golden. The first full moon of the season was almost ready to retire for the night.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

Years ago, Wayne had told Holly all about the moon and its phases and how sometimes it looked closer because it actually was closer. Holly could never keep apogee and perigee straight, but she was pretty sure Wayne had mentioned this full moon would be extra special because it was going to be closer to Earth.

Holly sat still and silent in Ludus’ arms, just staring at the moon. The night was quiet, only broken by the rustle of the wind in the trees and the melodic tones of the wind chime on the porch. Unthinkingly, she synchronized her breathing to match her husband’s. He was so still, Holly wouldn’t have been surprised if he had fallen asleep again with his chin propped on top of her head.

Bathed in the moonlight, having it seem almost close enough to touch, Holly could understand how one rock had inspired so many ancient goddesses. She too was beginning to believe the magic of the moonlight. It couldn’t hurt if she sent out a silent wish, whether it was to a benevolent goddess or a distant and alien rock.

“What do you think of Luna?”

“Luna’s pretty,” Ludus said thoughtfully. “But I’m pretty sure Wayne has been sitting on Luna for his first daughter’s name for ages.”

“Ahh, well, I wouldn’t want to take that away from him then,” Holly conceded.

The question hadn’t been entirely out of the blue. She and Ludus had been occasionally throwing around baby names ever since they had decided they were ready to start growing their family. Three long years of nothing had left the both a little downtrodden. It hadn’t been for lack of trying, things just… weren’t lining up.

Holly hated to even think of anything as being “unfair,” but she and Ludus had been married longer than any of their friends – with the exception of Brad and Carrie. After brief and passionate, whirlwind romance they knew they weren’t anywhere close to being ready for kids for the first couple years of their marriage. They still had so much growing to do both as a family and as individuals, but now…

Holly knew that as a farmer, patience was always rewarded, but she had been waiting _three years_ to have a baby of her own.

The wait had only gotten harder once her friends began marrying and having their own kids. They all began to get married right around the time Holly knew she was ready for kids. It was perfect timing, if they all had babies relatively close to each other their kids would have plenty of friends to play with as they grew up.

Their younger generation had certainly been keeping Ford busy over the last few years. Though the doctor had no desire to have children of his own, he thoroughly enjoyed tending to his friends and their children. Checking up on the young and healthy was far preferable to taking care of the old and sick, he said often.

Brad and Carrie had been the first to kick off the trend with their twins – identical boys who, despite their young age and small size, were wreaking havoc all around town. Noel was encouraging their mischievous nature with wanton abandon while Colin was making a valiant effort to introduce those boys to the joys of the quiet things in life.

Komari and Hinata’s little girl had just turned one last month. She was a sweet, cherubic child with her father’s hair and her mother’s beautiful eyes. Sumomo had become absolutely taken with the girl, and gladly volunteered her free time to babysit. Even stern, old Moriya had been rumored to have a soft spot for the child, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Her dimpled smile and dazzling eyes could beguile anyone.

Wayne and Iluka’s first was due in just a few months. They had scandalized all three towns when they had decided to not get married, but live together anyway. A very un-gentlemanly action for the postman, but Holly understood why they did so. Deep tradition and outdated laws meant that Siluka and Kasumi couldn’t get married; so until her sister could marry, Iluka wouldn’t either.

And then there were Yuzuki and Lisette. They’d barely been married more than three years and Lisette was already expecting their third child. Yuzuki just had to _look_ at Lisette to get her pregnant!

Now _that_ just wasn’t fair.

Holy shook herself mentally. Conceiving a child wasn’t a matter of fairness; it was just a matter of timing and luck; or sometimes was a medical matter. Ford had offered to look into fertility clinics in the city if Holly and Ludus wanted to do some medical investigations. They had put that option on the back burner – fertility tests and treatments weren’t cheap. Maybe if… Holly pressed her hand over her stomach. Maybe if recent efforts didn’t pan out they’d look into having tests done this winter.

Ford had also mentioned that Holly’s lifestyle could also be a contributing factor – research showed that women who worked physical labor tended to have a more difficult time conceiving. It wasn’t that is was impossible, it would just take more time. Statistically, an off season like winter would be the most likely time for success.

Holly was going to be optimistic though. She had a feeling that this time might be different. She had missed enough single periods over the last three years that it hardly stirred up anything stronger than a small spark of wonder anymore. It had always been the same; a late or skipped period, several weeks of anxious waiting only for business as usual to resume with much disappointment.

Ford had told her to not be discouraged, as such things were normal and expected. But when it went on for three years, Holly found it had to _not_ be discouraged.

This time, though, things seemed to be going differently. She had noted her late period without much enthusiasm, resigned to knowing it was probably just a week or two late, but when another two weeks passed without anything she took notice.

Still, Holly had kept this little nugget of information to herself over the last few days. She didn’t want to get Ludus’ hopes up only to have them come crashing down in another week or two. This wait for a child had been just as hard on him as it had been for her. Instead, she had quietly made an appointment with Ford for the end of the week. She needed that medical confirmation to be certain.

“What about Caitlin? Or Monica? Or Rose?”

“Stuck on girl’s names, I see,” Ludus quipped. “I always liked Moana or, hmm… or Laki.”

“Those are nice,” Holly agreed.

Ludus pressed a kiss to her cheek and then nuzzled against her neck sleepily, his stubble scratching against her. “What’s got baby names on your brain tonight, huh?”

“Oh, I was just thinking.” Holly bit her lip. Damnit, she couldn’t wait a couple more days! She continued quietly, almost afraid to say anything aloud and jinx it. “We might need to pick one soon.”

Ludus went tense, his arms tightened around Holly in surprise. A very long beat of silence passed. “Really?” His voice was tense and hoarse with barely contained emotion. Holly could feel his heart pounding beneath her shoulder blade.

Still chewing on her lip, she nodded. “I think so. I have an appointment with Ford on Friday.”

“Ha.” She could feel Ludus trembling with his arms still tight around her. Something warm and wet dripped onto her shoulder.

“Lu?”

Was he crying out of joy or…?

Suddenly, Ludus exploded up from the steps, crowing for all the world to hear. Holly was distantly aware of an alarmed squawk from the chicken coop from a disturbed chicken. He held Holly close in a bridal carry, spinning the both of them around while he hooted and hollered his unbridled joy into the night air. He only stopped and set Holly down long enough to sweep her into a passionate kiss.

“It’s happening!” He gasped, “It’s really happening!” He laughed like a madman, dancing with his wife under the harvest moon. Holly, unable to contain her own excitement, joined in enthusiastically.

And she wished, with all her heart and soul, she wished to the harvest moon or whatever ancient goddess that may be listening that this time it really was happening.

 

~*~ One Year Later ~*~

 

Holly stood on her porch gazing up at the harvest moon. Her hand rested on her very heavy belly, petting it absently. How fitting that tonight was going to be the night they finally had their child. A year ago, under the same harvest moon, they had had their first real taste of hope in a long time. Holly’s timing had still been a little off, or perhaps it just took a little while for her wish to get to the moon and back, because a few months later they had discovered that they actually, _finally_ were pregnant.

There was a crash, a thud, and a muttered curse in the open doorway behind her as Ludus fell over himself trying to pull his boots on and tug on a jacket and sling the rucksack full of supplies over his shoulder.

“Ku’uipo, you’re certain it’s time?” he asked, slightly wide-eyed with panic.

“Absolutely,” she said, helping him with his jacket. She’d been having contractions all day, steadily increasing in frequency and intensity – exactly as she had been told it would be, and now was the time Ford had said to come to his office. She pecked Ludus on the cheek to calm him. “In a few hours, our daughter will be here.”

Ludus grinned as he did a final check. Boots on the right feet. Jacket not inside-out. Baby bag on his back. They were ready to go. “You’re so certain our baby’s going to be a girl,” he teased, helping Holly off the porch.

“I am, and we’re going to name her Luna.”

Wayne and Iluka had ended up naming their daughter Margaret – Maggie for short – after a pioneering astrophysicists. Luna was bestowed upon Holly and Ludus with Wayne’s blessing. According to Iluka, Wayne’s last name was far too similar to the word ‘moon’ in another language and she absolutely refused to have a child named Moon Moon.

“But if he’s a boy, we’re naming him Tito, after my father.”

“Of course, love,” Holly said, holding her husband close as they navigated the dark, but familiar path up to Westown. They had agreed upon baby names so easily after years of testing them out. Luna had been the natural choice for the girl once Ford had informed them that their due date was just around the time of the harvest moon.

The full moon shone plenty of light for them to travel by. The path couldn’t have been clearer than if the midday sun was shining. Holly took that as a good sign. It was as if the moon itself was shining an extra blessing on them that night, just for their child. Despite her heaviness, pain, and discomfort, Holly’s steps felt lighter than they had in months, maybe even years. In a few short hours, before the moon even set tonight, their child would be born. Their long awaited baby would finally join their family, and they would live a life full of love and happiness.


End file.
